Full speed ahead

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,
The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all
-Together.
Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides
-Of weather.
Give but his horns the slightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such,
He shrinks into his house, with much
-Displeasure.
Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own
-Whole treasure.
Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds
-The faster.
Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combin’d)
If, finding it, he fails to find
-Its master.
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______██████████████████.•°*”˜҈.•°*”˜҈.

- William Cowper